


Oh, How You Move Me

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint is the Responsible One, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Moving, Moving Out, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Packing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha doesn't want to pack and Clint just doesn't want to pack alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, How You Move Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skysalla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skysalla/gifts).



“I don't want to,” Natasha complains, and drapes herself across the bed. “Packing is horrible.”

 

Clint sighs and crosses his arms, leaning his hip against the door frame. “Yeah, I know, I've been doing it for three days straight.”

 

“You're so diligent,” Natasha says.

 

“Come _on_ , Nat,” he replies and kicks off of the door, crossing the room to swat at her foot. “This's probably one of the last moves we'll ever have to make, so you need to get up and get your ass in gear.”

 

She moans and rolls over on the bed, her red curls spreading out in an arc over the sheets. They're not the carefully finger-tamed curls she wears when she wants to look sweet either. They're messy and a little bit frizzy and Clint loves them because the only time her curls look like that is when she A) comes back to bed after showering, or B) spends the night taking him apart. And, okay, after a long day somewhere humid. But mostly the first two things.

 

He nudges at her foot some more. “Nat. Naaaaat. Naaaaattt.”

 

“Just throw it all away!” she shouts into the bed and curls into a ball. She looks ridiculous. Honestly, people are scared shitless of this woman.

 

Clint rolls his eyes. “You want me to throw out your tea set? All your tea. Really.”

 

“No!” Natasha exclaims, aghast, and turns her head to glare at him through the spillage of her hair. “I can make you suffer.”

 

“I know, you're doing it right now,” he replies and she glares at him some more. He swivels on one foot and sits down on the bed, letting one hand come to rest on her hip. As if he's doing some terrible chore, he says, “You want me to bribe you?”

 

She eyeballs him. “What are you offering?”

 

He licks his lips, deliberately, and says, “Well, I ain't got much.”

 

Natasha's eyes go a little darker and he has to stifle a grin. “One kiss for every box,” she demands. “Tongue, light petting, no less than thirty seconds.”

 

“No petting,” he counters. Neither of them are particularly good at practicing self-restraint.

 

She makes an irritated noise and quiets for a second. Then she says, “Okay, fine, tongue, no less than thirty seconds per kiss, and I want to fuck in the kitchen one more time before we go.”

 

“Deal,” Clint says, gravely.

 

Natasha sighs, resigned and Clint can't help running his fingers along her face, down the line of her jaw. God, he loves her so damn much. Her eyes go a little soft and she tilts her head into the touch just slightly. Then her eyes drop and she curls her hand around his fingers. “This is a good idea, right? Moving in with Stark.”

 

“A good idea? No, it's a terrible idea.” He winces when she jabs the heel of her palm into his shoulder. “Ow.” Shifting so that he can lie back next to her, he twines their fingers together. “It's gonna be fine. Stark's gonna make us nuts, but you'll have Rogers in your pocket to tease and matchmake mercilessly and Stark's already assured me that our floors are above Banner's. Everything will be fancy. We won't have to hit the fixture to get clear water in the morning.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha's mouth curl into a smile. “But I like our waste-water water.”

 

“It's not like people're lining up around the block for this place, Tasha. Worst case, we hate it and we call the landlord up and beg him to take us back.”

 

“Worst case _you_ call him and beg him to take us back.”

 

“Whatever. Point is, we'll deal. But you have got to get all this crap of yours into some boxes.”

 

“O _kay_ ,” she says, huffing like she's annoyed, but he knows better. She twists and leans forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

 

Clint smiles and squeezes her fingers.

 

They're gonna be just fine.


End file.
